


Forget-Me-Not

by sortablue



Series: Weekly Writes [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, Gunshot Wounds, Implied Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sortablue/pseuds/sortablue
Summary: In Logan's opinion, Virgil is much too blase about his own quickly-approaching death.On the other hand, Logan is barely holding it together as Virgil bleeds out in his lap.





	Forget-Me-Not

**Author's Note:**

> Week 11

“Hey, Logan?”

Virgil’s voice broke through the eerie quiet that surrounded them.

“Yeah, stardust?”

“What do you think it’ll be like? After I’m gone?”

Logan shuddered. Virgil had said it so easily.

If Logan closed his eyes, he could almost make himself believe that they were merely out for a stroll.

But he’d never been very good at make-believe.

There were no birds chirping, only the shrill ringing of bells across the city.

There was no warm breeze, only the biting cold of the acrid city air.

There was no soft grass underfoot, only the stone alley cement beneath them, unforgiving and slick with blood.

The perfect pale blues and golds of a nice spring day were nonexistent, overcome instead by a dull, dreary gray.

As much as he tried, Logan couldn’t make himself believe that everything would be okay.

A few feet away, Virgil’s phone lay smashed to pieces, the emergency number still glitching on the screen. Logan’s was far away, deserted on a table a few blocks away.

_“Lo?” Virgil said as soon as Logan picked up. His voice was weak and interrupted by harsh breaths that scraped against his throat._

_“Virgil?” Logan asked, already standing up from his booth._

_They’d planned to have breakfast._

_“I- I think we’re gonna have to cancel the date.”_

_“Virgil, what’s wrong, where are you?”_

_Virgil laughed wryly, drawing in a pained breath right after._

_“Logan, I… I think I’m dying.”_

“You…. you won’t be gone, you’ll never be gone, you’re- you’re too important, I could never-“ Virgil’s grip on his hand was weakening by the second- “You _can’t_ go.”

Virgil was quiet. “I’m not scared.” He admitted quietly.

Logan took in a deep breath. His favorite flannel - blue galaxy underneath the black patterning - was pressed hard against the gunshot wound in Virgil’s side, his head laid gently in his lap.

“I know, stardust. I know. But I am.”

“Why?” Virgil asked, his voice strangely calm -scarily, because his voice was never this tranquil.

It was eerie, empty.

Logan just shook his head, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Virgil’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you anymore.”

“You- you have to.” Virgil choked out. His voice was taut with pain as he tried to twist around to face Logan. “L, you gotta, because when I die-“

“No, no that is not a certainty, _if_ , it’s _if_ -“

“You have to keep living, you gotta keep going out and mapping the stars and ordering those funny cocoas you like and picking flowers out on the hill. You gotta… gotta..”

Logan choked. He could- he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

The rational part of Logan knew that it was the concussion, or the shock, or the blood loss, or a nasty combination of all three, but it also knew that that nasty combination could spell out Virgil’s doom.

“Hang in there, darling.” He whispered, bring his free hand down to hold Virgil’s again.

Distantly, he could hear the whining of sirens between the bustling city life, but he paid little mind.

“How long?” Virgil asked quietly. His grip was weak in Logan’s and getting weaker. “How long do you think it’ll take you guys to forget about me?”

“Eons, Virgil. We- we’ll never forget you. And- and we won’t need to, because you’re not gonna be gone, you’re gonna be right there beside us and-“

“Lo.” Virgil said softly, voice pinched even as he softened his face. “It’s too late for me.”

“It’s never too late.”

Virgil just gave his typical half-smile.

“I love you, moonlight.”

“I… I love you too, stardust.”

Virgil’s eyes slipped shut, accompanied by the screeching of tires against cement and the deafening wail of the sirens.


End file.
